


A Great Fall

by acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, adiwriting



Series: All The King's Horses [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, dammit Malcolm, descriptions of violence not worse than show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline/pseuds/acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: After a year of Prometheus’s mind games, the truth has been revealed. Oliver knows what he has to do. He should have done this five years ago. If it’s a fight to the death he wants, Oliver will give it to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to dettiot for helping us look over this one! This one-shot is the prequel to the story “All The Kings Horses” which should be posted sometime in February.

Oliver opens the door to the rooftop and dodges out of they way as Prometheus — no, Malcolm — shoots an arrow at his head. It misses. Oliver steps out onto the roof of what used to be Merlyn Global. If the deja vu hadn’t been present before, it most certainly is now. 

“So tell me,” Malcolm says, still using the voice modulator, as if there’s any reason to bother concealing his identity any longer. “Are you ready to die?” 

Malcolm shoots another arrow at him, but it misses.

His mind flashes back to the same fight five years ago, and it’s like nothing ever changed.

“Take him out,” Felicity says over the coms, her voice filled with rage, and he’s angry for her. Malcolm has, once again, pulled the rug out from under them and destroyed everything they hold dear. And for what? To prove to Oliver that he’s a murderer? To prove to the new team that Oliver is a killer? Malcolm has no leg to stand on. 

Oliver doesn’t hesitate. He walks towards Malcolm as he raises his bow and shoots. Malcolm returns his fire with an arrow of his own. 

This is pointless. They are both skilled archers, but neither of them are going to land a shot on the other. Oliver fires off two more quick shots before he runs at Malcolm. They’ve fought each other before. They’ve fought since the Undertaking and Oliver had won, taking Malcolm’s hand. He will win again. They may have both been Ra’s al Ghul at one time, but Oliver is the one that won the title on merit. In a fight to the death, Oliver will win. 

He calculates the risk. He plays defensive as he allows Malcolm to believe he has the upperhand. All the while, Oliver is studying, learning his opponent, looking for a weak spot in his armor. He dodges fists and lands a few blows himself. Then, he sees his opening. 

He allows Malcolm to land a hit to his stomach, because it leaves him vulnerable. Oliver grabs into his arm with one hand, elbows him in the face with the other arm. Then, he does a sweep, satisfied when Malcolm falls to the ground. Now that Oliver has him where he wants him, he can finish this. 

He uses Malcolm's own bow to hit him in the face, hard. He lands perfectly-aimed kicks to his sides with the intent of breaking his ribs. He knows from personal experience how difficult it is to fight when each breath feels like a knife to the side. He hits him in the face several more times with the bow. But like the cockroach he is, Malcolm doesn’t stay down. 

He catches Oliver around the legs and he finds himself falling to the ground. He does a kip up and is on his feet again quickly, but not fast enough. Malcolm has found his own footing and Oliver has lost his tactical advantage for the moment. Of course, Malcolm never makes it easy. 

Oliver takes several steps back and aims an arrow at Malcolm’s head. He releases the arrow and watches it fly, not in the least bit surprised when Malcolm catches the arrow inches from his face. Oliver counts. 

One. 

Malcolm still has on his mask, but Oliver can just picture his self-satisfied smirk at thinking he’s done something impressive. 

Two. 

It’s Malcolm’s arrogance that always trips him up in the end. 

Three. 

The arrow detonates. Malcolm falls to the ground. 

“We’ve been through this before, Malcolm,” Oliver says, frustrated that it’s come to this. 

He still doesn’t understand what the point of all of this is. If Malcolm wanted him dead, then why didn’t he come at him as the Dark Archer? Why all the smoke and mirrors, dressing up as Prometheus? Why recreate their fight from five years ago? 

Malcolm gets to his feet. 

He lunges at Oliver, grabbing him around the middle. Oliver uses his bow to hit him in the back, trying to get him to let go. It doesn’t work. Malcolm lifts him up and slams him down on the ground, hard. He sees stars as he tries to clear his vision. He takes a handful of gravel and throws it at Malcolm's face, blinding him just long enough so that he can get to his feet again. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Oliver catching his breath. He can hear the grunts of his team over the comm, letting him know that they are still engaged with Malcolm’s men downstairs. Digg isn’t going to reach the rooftop to save him if Malcolm gets the upper hand this time. This is on Oliver. He has to be the one to take Malcolm out. No mercy. 

They went down the road of mercy when he took Malcolm’s hand and here they are. Again. How many times is he going to do this with him? 

No. No more. Oliver isn’t a killer, but he’s been left with no choice. Malcolm has to die. Felicity is right. Some men are unredeemable. 

Malcolm takes a swing at him, but Oliver ducks and lands a punch to his stomach. He keeps punching. He can’t give Malcolm even a sliver of an opening. If he lets up, Malcolm will take advantage. 

“Oliver?” Felicity calls out to him, her voice filled with worry and reminding him of what he’s fighting for. He won’t let this monster ruin the lives of his family any longer. Enough is enough. He should have ended this years ago. He was naive to think it could play out any differently. 

He doesn’t care if this is Thea’s father. This ends tonight. 

“I’m okay,” Oliver says, taking a second to reassure her that he’s alive. 

A second is all Malcolm needs. The moment Oliver's attention isn't 100% on the fight, Malcolm attacks. He gets his arm around Oliver’s throat. Oliver grasps at his arm, trying to get him to loosen his hold as he struggles to breathe, but he doesn’t let up. If Oliver doesn’t get out of this soon, Malcolm is going to win. 

His eyes scan for something, anything that he can use against Malcolm to get free of his hold. An arrow that Malcolm had dodged earlier is in front of him, within reach.

Oliver flashes back to that night, five years ago, when he’d stabbed himself with an arrow in order to defeat Malcolm. The scar tissue still aches when the temperature drops. It’s clear now what Oliver has to do. It’s the only play he has left. 

He’s not as suicidal as he once was. He no longer is waiting for death to find him under the hood. He actively fights to come home every night. However, if Malcolm wants a recreation, that’s what he’ll get. Oliver doesn’t want to die, but he’ll make the sacrifice play in order to protect the people he can’t live without. 

His fingers wrap around the fletching of the arrow. 

“We both know how this ends,” he says, picking it up. He gives Malcolm one last chance to save himself. Praying for him to have a moment of sanity and realize how stupid this all is. Is he really willing to die for this pointless crusade of his? 

When the hold around his neck doesn’t loosen, Oliver tells himself that this is his only option. Malcolm has left him with no choice. He takes one final breath, preparing himself for the pain he knows is inevitable, and drives the arrow through his own shoulder, needing to push harder than he had before in order to break through the old scar tissue. He breathes through the agony and continues pushing until he hears Malcolm’s pained hiss, letting him know that he’s succeeded. 

He can stop. He’s won. 

Oliver closes his eyes and takes several steadying breaths, doing his best to hold it together despite the fact that he’s never known a pain like this before. 

He knows the pain of skin and muscle being sliced open. This isn’t that. This is the feeling of muscle being torn apart in directions that it was never meant to go, as the old wound that never healed properly protests being reopened. This is thick scar tissue that hadn’t given way easily.

He was naive to think that it had hurt before, the first time he had skewered himself. That had been child’s play compared to this. Oliver may have had worse injuries, but his body had always reacted quickly and allowed him to block out the pain. He waits for that to happen here. He waits for himself to black out. 

Malcolm’s right hand comes around to brace itself against Oliver’s chest. The left hand comes around to grab onto the arrow. Oliver sees white as the motion causes the arrow to move. He blindly reaches up for Malcolm to make him stop, but he isn’t quick enough. Malcolm pulls the arrow out of them both, and Oliver screams out in pain as Malcolm shoves him to the ground. 

The movement causes his hood to fall back and his comm to fall out of his ear. He rolls over onto his back, his body protesting every move. 

Malcolm is standing over him, arrow in hand. His body is still, all hard lines, but his hands are shaking in pure rage. Oliver waits for the death that he knows is coming. He doesn’t have the strength to fight back. 

“Oliver! Oliver!” 

Felicity’s voice can be heard clearly even with the comm lost in his hood somewhere. 

Malcolm takes a step back and his head tilts to the side. 

“I need visual. Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” Felicity asks, sounding frantic. Oliver wants to reassure her that everything will be okay. She’s safe now. Oliver won’t be around any longer to put her in danger. 

“We’re a little busy at the moment trying not to die,” Curtis responds, breathing heavily. 

Oliver can hear the sound of his team still fighting for their lives downstairs. He has faith that once he’s gone, Malcolm will call off his men. It’s okay. Everything will work out. He has to believe that. 

He watches as Malcolm hesitates. If he’s going to do it, Oliver would rather get it over with. But Malcolm makes no move. Oliver doesn’t understand what is happening. Malcolm has never been one to second guess himself. So it’s hard to believe, in these final moments, he’s changed his mind about killing him. 

Yet here they are. Is it possible that Malcolm has finally come to his senses? Despite his own feelings about Malcolm, he knows the man cares about Thea in his own twisted way. Is he just now realizing the ramifications of his actions? That’s not the Malcolm he knows. Always so sure and calculating with every move. 

But Thea has always been his weak point. Seeing his opening and knowing he has nothing left to lose, Oliver gathers his will. He struggles to his knees. With trembling hands, fighting back the pain, he reaches up and pulls down the mask. 

Malcolm takes another step back and Oliver knows his instincts were right. If he can get Malcolm to see him as Oliver Queen, the boy he’s known his entire life, then Oliver has a chance. He needs Malcolm to not see the Green Arrow, but instead, Thea’s brother. 

Stumbling to his feet, he says, “Malcolm, don’t do this. Think of Thea.” 

“Wrong Merlyn,” he says. He reaches up and pulls off his mask, throwing it away. 

Oliver’s heart leaps to his throat as he meets the eyes of his best friend. Eyes he’d know anywhere. 

“Tommy?” 

It certainly looks like his best friend, but it can’t be. Tommy has never let his anger control him so completely before. He didn’t want to be like Malcolm. Even at his worst moments when he was yelling at Oliver, there had always been a smile lurking, ready to disarm the fight. This man before him trembling with rage looks like his best friend, but Oliver has to be hallucinating. 

“What? No. Oliver. Man, that’s not Tommy. Take your shot,” Digg says, a distant voice coming from the comm unit on the ground. Oliver can barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. 

Logically, he knows that Digg is right. How could this even be possible? He watched Tommy die. He held him as he took his last breath. This isn’t Tommy. It can’t be. 

Oliver’s fingers itch for his bow, but his body won’t move. 

Malcolm would have killed him by now. He hasn’t. Maybe this is Tommy. He’s seen stranger things happen. They brought Sara back from the dead last year… Why not Tommy? 

He makes a split second decision, praying he’s right. He holds out his arms in surrender. If he’s wrong, he’s dead. But he’s not willing to risk the possibility. 

The man looks confused. His hand is no longer shaking in rage. He lowers it to his side. 

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Oliver now knows: this is Tommy. 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy takes another step towards him, raising the arrow in his hand. While his face is twisted up in pure hatred, his eyes tell another story. He’s haunted, yes, but there’s recognition there. Oliver can’t believe it. He wants to cry in relief. 

“You’re a murderer,” Tommy says. “A killer.” 

It’s not as convincing as it had been when he’d had been under the mask. He isn’t sure anymore. It’s like he’s trying to convince himself. 

Oliver plays his last card, and bets the house. “And I’m your best friend.”

 

To Be Continued in All The King's Horses


End file.
